


First Act...

by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dancing, F/M, Flying, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 22:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER/pseuds/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: One shots for "Final Fantasy IX!"
Relationships: Kuja (Final Fantasy IX)/Reader





	1. Immortality

[Kuja x Sick!Reader]

[Kuja’s perspective]

_“The weak lose their freedom to the strong. Such is the way of the strong. And it is the providence of nature that only the strong survive. That is why I needed strength.”_

Such a tapestry of thoughts weave through the threads of my mind. In and out, its needle laces through the disorder and madness, creating the masterpiece I call my intellect.

An angel of death am I, created to entice these pathetic souls to their demise, to instigate wars, so easily catalyzed by these weak minded creatures. 

I surpass them all. I rise above and beyond their avarice, including the blindness of my own creator. 

If such power, such intelligence is bestowed on me, then why must I wither away as the petals of a flower in winter, to be lost, to be forgotten? Why am I nothing more than a proxy to be used and tossed aside? 

_Why should the world exist without me? It’s...not fair!_

Yet, I see you there, a frail, little creature, carrying a burden far too great for your wearied shoulders. Ah, how sorrowful you appear, your eyes cast to the ground, your back curved from the weight of your own thoughts. A freak of nature are you, created by my creator, my master, yet used as nothing more than a laboratory rat, a guinea pig for his sickening experiments.

According to the world, you are nothing, doomed to wither away and die.

Alas, I know of death. I know I am no different than you. I possess strength and power beyond your comprehension. These hands are stained with the blood thousands, thousands of paltry existences lower than myself, disgusting, pitiable creatures.

Yet, no different are they than I. Just as they crumble under my power, so I will wither and fade with the passage of time.

As will you.

_“Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past... Though we hope for promising years. After shedding a thousand tears, yesterday's sorrow constantly nears. And while the moon still shines blue, by dawn, it will turn to scarlet hue.”_

As I listen to the low and sultry moan of the wind, the silvery hue of the moon’s rays, adorning my home with her melancholy light, I perceive the rustle of sheets as you stir in your slumber. Such faint noises fail to distract me from my vast ocean of thought, but just this once, I come to your bedside. The springs beneath creak as my weight settles in, once against disturbing your sleep. Warmth radiates from your frail body as you nestle yourself back into peace again, your slow breaths feathering against my skin. For such a meager creature, you yet remain so fascinating to me. How does one so close to the door to everlasting sleep, so long tangled in a dance with death that your eyes still sparkle with such hope? I wallow in my own despair, my own madness at even glancing in the direction of the afterlife. Yet, you still keep a smile, a beautiful one at that.

Never did I ever think to see the day that someone so weak could possess such power. In fact, it seems near impossible. 

What a miracle you are, dear little creature...

Quite suddenly, something inside you pushes you back into the realms of reality. Your eyes flash open, glazed, confused. You are so surprised to see me, I cannot help but smile just a little. A rise of your shoulders, a curl of your spine, your body tenses as you await a word, a gesture, anything to break this silence. 

Triggering a little flinch from you, my fingers slide through the matted tresses of your hair. With each caress, you relax a little at a time, until once again, you breathe slowly, melting into the comfort of your sheets once more.

Unable to control the urge, I lean close to your temple, the tip of my nose tickling your skin, ever so slightly, taking in your clean, sweet scent. Times feels as though to have stopped.

“Hush now,” I whisper. “Return your dreams, little dear.”

I note you inching just a bit closer to my form. It takes you no time to venture back to whatever wonderland you concocted for yourself. 

Despite your stillness, I cannot bring myself to leave your side. It is a strange sensation, something a little warm, dare I say, but I never can find the proper words to explicate it.

Instead, I just remain here, mindless twirling your locks around my fingers, ensuring your security in sleep, my precious latticework of contemplation, ebbing away, little by little. 

Suddenly, this strange paradox known as life and death matter not anymore, at least for this moment of serenity. This notion of immortality becomes nothing more than a dream lost along the horizon, an idea floating in a galaxy of unanswered questions.

Even if these small moments last for only the blink of an eye, they at least hold a little something that I can cling to.


	2. Walking In the Air

[Kuja x Sick!Reader]

(www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3hpIU… Please listen while you read!)

_Flying is dancing._

That is always what he tells you.

Flying carries you into a realm beyond what this terrestrial terrain offers you. It brings you closer to the heavens. It allows you to engage the celestial bodies in their forbidden dance, to return the affection of the moon in her sweet, silvery embrace. It grants one the ability to perceive how small and insignificant individuals seem from the perspective of those that dwell above, be it angel or aviary. Most importantly, flying fills one with a sense of delight and freedom unlike anything else. No one could properly illustrate with words the overwhelming feelings of pleasure one would feel from this experience.

How you envy his freedom.

With a body as fragile as yours, you long to just walk for a period of time without losing your breath. You wish to sleep peacefully without pain or discomfort waking you from your rest.

A side life of isolation you lead.

Yet, you possess neither the strength nor the will to end it yourself.

Instead you power through the pain with as much as you could muster.

Still, one of your most favorite activities, one seemingly insignificant and meaningless, is sitting at the window of your room, watching the world of nature unfold before you, watching the creatures interact with one another. No theatrical production could truly capture the drama and wonder that simply comes from the works of Mother Nature.

Had it not been for his wisdom, you might have trudged through your life without even opening your eyes to this.

Above all else, you take far greater joy, even beyond that of watching the scene, in watching him fly, be it away or returning to this lair of his. His long, silvery locks and silken clothes flow elegantly about him, moving with him. His steely eyes narrow with focus on his every movement. His porcelain skin glows golden in the light of the sun, then white and lustrous as the moon when night cast his dark sheets over the world.

You have always admired his power, his sense of confidence and strength. Being a failed experiment, tossed aside in the garbage, you always envy that self assurance. Perhaps then, you would find a little more comfort in your situation, a little more sense in who you are.

Alas, it is only to remain a remnant of your dream realm,

and all you could do is watch your guardian breath through the atmosphere, owning the sky as a king.

It is another night spent at the window, watching him return to his isolated home, his sanctuary. Once more, your mind wanders into a trance as your eyes follow the patterns he creates within the midnight canvas. He slows himself and floats close and closer, until he rests tentatively on the window sill. You feel so small in comparison to him as he gazes down on you, eyes glinting in the starlight. Your throat begins to tighten, and all you do is glance away. Triggering a quiet gasp from your throat, he gently grasps your fingertips, urging you to rise from your seat. Your limbs quiver as he brings you to the edge of the high window. Never have you stood so close to danger. Your heart beats against your ear drums. Your brow produces tiny beads of sweat. With one hand still clasping your own, the other curving along your waist, he steadies you as he slowly lifts you from the surface. For a second, sheer panic stabs at your chest. Your heart nearly collapses in your breast, and every limb grows cold.

Then, everything changes: the wind’s soft, cool fingertips against your skin, the scene beneath you diminishing little by little, the clouds opening like curtains on a stage as if displaying your entrance, the magnificent display of the billions of stars twinkling and dancing upon the arrival of their guests.

You enter a world once unattainable by the likes of you.

Everything below seems so small and insignificant, yet you find yourself mesmerized by their simple beauty; patches of green and blue from the forests and streams, rough lines of brown from open deserts, white caps of the icy mountains, the infinity of the ocean. Everything you only witnessed within the confinements of your comfortable prison, hiding within the words and pictures of your books, it all lays before you, all real, all so quickly.

Unable to fully process the vastness of your surroundings, you simply grin in childish glee.

Still firmly grasping you to his body, he proceeds to twist and turn in those fluid patterns you so enjoyed to watch. You fail to withhold the soft peels of laughter behind your lips. Every dip, every turn feels even more exciting than the last. You sense the subtle cadence of his movements, and your heart beats in time with its tempo.

Truly, flight is like a dance, when he engages in it.

Each swirl and cycle melds together into an aerial waltz within this midnight blue. For once in your life, you leave your sorrows behind in your room. At last, you can feel your heart soar and let it be carried away by a joy you only hear of in fairy tales.

He turns you to his face, holding you tighter. Your breath hitches in your throat as his intense stare holds your own, the closeness of his form against your own.

Much to your surprise, you catch a hint of a smile, gracing his ethereal features. That cold exterior for just this moment melts away as he carries you into his world of stars and silent rhythms.

Not once have you believed the happiness experienced this night existed.

Never did you believe someone as pathetic as yourself could obtain.

All it took was a touch of the hand and a long walk within the air.


End file.
